1000 Bookmarks
by Carolin Messier
Have you ever gotten in trouble for reading? Not for stealing or cheating or smoking weed or breaking the rules, but for reading?
In our current age of video games, smart phones and a million other multi-media distractions, it’s difficult for many to slow down long enough to lose themselves in a book. With so many demands for my attention as a business owner, engaged friend and inhabitant of the modern world, I read less than I would like, far less than I did as a girl who used it as an escape from the loneliness of difference and the anxiety of parental strife.
In the third grade Laura Ingalls Wilder was my personal hero. I read her eight books until the pages began to fall out of their bindings and I’d memorized her life. Most nights my mother would stick her head in my room and call “lights out” 20 minutes after I was supposed to be asleep. If I was at a good part (and those books were full of “good parts”,) I’d grab my pocket flashlight, pull the covers over my head and continue until I fell asleep. I was greedy; I wanted to get something from reading. I read for the “story”, to live another person’s life and escape my own and the people in it who disappointed me.
In contrast William didn’t expect anything from either people or books. He accepted people as they are and he read for the pure pleasure of the act. He read everything, without exception. Great writing and beautiful prose he especially appreciated, but as a reader he was an egalitarian, not an elitist. The newsletter full of energy-saving tips included with his electric bill got equal measure of his attention as Tolstoy’s War and Peace or the homeless advocacy weekly paper sold by the guy in front of Trader Joe’s. William was the only person I ever knew of who read the eight pages of that paper cover to cover, every time. His mind was built of curiosity, insatiable for the sustenance of ideas, knowledge and wisdom recorded in the written word. When he was in grade school he won a contest from the local paper for submitting the most interesting question to the “Ask Andy” column: “How do hurricanes turn?” His prize was an entire set of encyclopedias. He opened the cover of the first volume and read his way through to the footnotes of Vol. XYZ. His older brother didn’t believe that he’d read the entire dictionary and tried many times to trip him up by opening it at random and quizzing him on the definition of some obscure word. His recall was nearly photographic, which irked his brother.
Books had been the refuge of his southern boyhood. Through them he escaped from the shame of being picked last for every team because he couldn’t catch a ball. They saved him from his father’s disappointment at his missing every target when he aimed with a firing pistol. And the stories he read consoled him about his poor grades, because being born a “McClure” assigned him to a desk 20 feet from the blackboard. His severe near-sightedness wasn’t discovered until he was in the fourth grade. By the time he was fitted with corrective lenses, his relationship with the written word had gone through a holy sacrament, they were wedded for life.
During the first three seasons of our courtship, I rarely saw William settled in with a book. His actions were in dramatic contrast to the stories he told me about himself. The morning after we returned from a beautiful weekend spent together on his sailboat sharing stories, reciting poetry and making love, he put aside the morning paper mid-article when I set a plate of cumin-scrambled eggs and toasted day-old bread in front of him. When I encouraged him to continue enjoying his paper with his breakfast he admitted that he’d “gotten in trouble” in past relationships for reading too much. He was determined not to make that same mistake with me. He’d told me that I was “The One” and that he’d been looking for me for a long time and he didn’t want his habit to mess things up. I told him that I was attracted to this passion of his, that I wanted him to experience every possible pleasure in his life, that the intensity of his reading inspired me. But it didn’t matter how I phrased it; he never quite believed me and he always set aside whatever he was reading when I came into the room. Even in the spring after I asked him to marry me, and he immediately accepted, William still shielded me from his “habit” as if he were a drug addict. The weekend after we got engaged he left for a weekend to work on his boat (and catch up on his closeted habit I was sure.) My words hadn’t penetrated his belief in how things were. I decided to employ an often cited rule of writing, “don’t tell, show”.
While he was away I spent all of my free time researching quotes on reading, books and libraries; laying out text; designing his monogram; and then printing, cutting and packing 1000 bookmarks. On the evening of his return home I presented him with the stack of four boxes wrapped in bitter chocolate paper and a white satin ribbon. I’d found a card that was designed to look like an old school library card, the kind that was slipped into a manila pouch glued to the inside front cover of the book that the librarian would write your name on and date stamp and hold in a card file until the book was returned. Instead of dates and names, I wrote on it that when I asked him to marry me, I accepted all of him, every quirk and habit. When he untied the bow and lifted the cover off of the top box, he looked at me with inquisitive confusion. Lined up on edge, it wasn’t obvious what the pieces of garnet card stock were.
In response to his unspoken question I told him, “Baby, I made you 1000 bookmarks. I know that these won’t be enough to last you a lifetime, so when you’ve used all of these, I’ll make you 1000 more.” He cried and embraced me, finally feeling the gift of complete acceptance I’d been offering him in words for months. From that day until his death a short two years and three months later, he never again set aside his reading when I entered the room.
Carolyn – I hadn’t heard that William had passed. I’m so sorry. You two were amazing together, in the brief time that I spent in your proximity (what you had is what I’ve wanted to have). Our paths haven’t crossed since Angela and I stopped dating, but I did want to express my belated sympathy. If you ever need a hug, consider several banked for future need.
Your post touched me personally, because I’m still one of those people that dives into books to escape from the unpleasantries of reality. Most evenings end with me curled up (granted, with Kindle rather than print books these days), reading. I spent much of my youth hiding from family unpleasantness within the pages of books, reading for the same sort of escape that you describe. Thank you for sharing.
-Steven
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Steven, thank you for your kind words and thoughts. It has been a very deep loss for me. Each day I breathe, and write and feel the grief. What William and I shared was unique in both of our lives. I’m grateful to have shared that deep intimacy with another human being.
Books are the most wonderful friends aren’t they? I still read of course but now with a writer’s eye, trying to learn the craft from those who have gone before me.
Again, thank you for reaching out.
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This is a wonderful story, Carolin. I’m so sorry it didn’t last longer.
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Thank you. Me too, but I’m so grateful for the 3 years and one month we did have. He was a voracious reader, but 2 years and 3 months wasn’t long enough for him to go through 1000 bookmarks. So now I share them here and give them away.
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Now I understand. I was wondering about that. I won’t pass up reading them from now on, now that I know the meaning behind them.
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Thank you. It’s something I do to honor him and to honor what we shared.
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This is incredibly beautiful. Thank you for sharing this. I understand his love and emotion regarding reading. And what a heartfelt way to share him. I’m sorry for your loss.
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Thank you for your kind words. It is indeed a huge loss for me and the world. He was so humble he had no idea how much he touched other people’s lives.
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We can hope to be remembered this way.
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What an incredible, beautiful gift you gave him. To know he was so loved. I commented recently on the freshly pressed story of your father- and now again this has moved me deeply. I am a young widow too, thankfully there are very few of us, and though its been almost four years, I think of him everyday. I haven’t found a way to write about it. Thank you for sharing something so personal.
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Thank you. For someone to feel loved, they must be ready to accept it but it also needs to be expressed in a way he understands. William loved words, but because of people in his past had used them dishonestly they didn’t carry much weight with him when used to express emotion or affection. Since my father lacked the ability to express love in words which caused me to miss so much from him, I consciously, consistently tell people how much they mean to me. But I learned that William needed actions.
I am sorry for your loss. I can imagine you’ll think of him regularly for the rest of your life. Don’t worry about how, or whether you’ll ever show it to anyone else, just write about your loss. It helps. Try “I remember…” as a prompt and describe a special day with him, even if it was just hanging around the house together. Or start “Dear….” and write a letter to him.
Thank you for reading and taking the time to share your story too.
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Again this is a really beautiful story and what an important message to show people love in a way they understand. To have something so tangible, like the bookmarks, anyone would be blessed. Although the gift would of course differ. I came across two wordpress posts this week on grief and loss. It has given me a lot to digest. Appreciate your thoughtful response and I will try the prompts. Thank you.
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The words come to us when we’re ready for them, either reading those of others or writing our own. Let me know how it goes.
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Wow, Carolin. I awakened this morning and the first thing on my mind was not wanting to write my blog, but wondering if you had posted anything new. I checked your blog and found this. I know that kind of love, but the way you expressed your love toward your husband, and reading, was inspiring. Learning your husband passed away brought tears to my eyes, as I immediately related to your words – about love – not that kind of loss. You’ve done me a big service…I must find better ways to let my Brad know how I accept him…completely. Thank you!
May I reference this story in one of my posts? I think it’s brilliantly written.
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Kelly,
I am so glad that my story spoke to you and even more importantly that it is inspiring you to act. In the past 5 years it has become one of my major codes to live by- to discover what makes the important people in my life feel loved, appreciated, accepted, respected, and cared for. At the time that I gave my fiance, William, (he died two months before our wedding date which was supposed to be this past September 14th, you might like the poem I Me Wed on my blog) the bookmarks I acted from intuition and clues that I had gotten from him. Then I finally realized that words didn’t work with him as well as actions probably would. He’d had people in his past who used words dishonestly and to manipulate.
In the months after this gift, through some reading I was doing on relationships I hit upon a simple way to make sure our loved ones feel from us how we feel for them: ASK THEM. The question is not, “Do you feel loved by me?” but rather, “What makes you feel loved?”
At the time, it was most important to me that William feel appreciated by me. He did so many thoughtful things that made my life easier, more fun, more comfortable…just better. So I asked him: “What makes you feel appreciated?” He thought for a few moments and I held my tongue and didn’t offer helpful “suggestions” for possible responses. His answer absolutely floored me. “Physical affection”, that was his answer. Like rubbing his feet as we sat on the couch watching a movie. Or an extra long hug and kiss when he came home from work. I already knew that he loved affection, but I had no idea that it made him feel “appreciated”. From that experience on, I always ask my friends and family what does it for them and I let them know what does it for me. I have never felt so connected and loved in my life as I have since I’ve learned this simple thing. Just ask.
And yes, of course. I’d be honored to have you share my story in whatever way you like. In fact an idea has begun brewing in my head, not yet fully formed, of a 1000 Bookmark Project. I’ll keep you posted.
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Carolin, sorry for the late reply. I was away for awhile. Thank you for sharing so much with me. I will definitely reference your blog now and then, when the time is right. People need to read you!
I’m curiously waiting to see what’s brewing in your head. I’ll stay tuned in.
Hugs.
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That was a real ‘labour of love’. Your story really touched me and I’m sorry that your time together was cut short. I’m going to need to take the time to read through your blog now.
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I’m glad you enjoyed it. If you’re interested, this is one of my favorite pieces on my blog:
https://writeswithpencils.wordpress.com/2014/10/12/portrait-of-grief/
And this one as well, which is a sweeter story. It was featured on Freshly Pressed:
https://writeswithpencils.wordpress.com/2014/09/28/the-translation-of-i-love-you/
Thanks for reading.
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profoundly moved by this story – you are a remarkable woman and he was lucky to have you in his life
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Thank you. I write for two reasons: Because I have to; the words claw at the inside of my skull or tear at my gut or wrap around my heart or choke my throat until I get them out. And because I hope to connect, to touch another person through shared understanding and perhaps that person will feel just a little less alone in the world, even if just for a moment.
William and I knew how lucky we were to have each other. He’d often look at me and say, “I’m such a lucky bastard!”
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I have only just had the opportunity to read this beautiful (and beautifully written) piece of writing. All I can say is that it touched me deeply. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. Do you mind if I reblog this?
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Christina,
Thank you for your kind words. To hear that you were touched by my writing is the greatest compliment. Yes, you are welcome to reblog this piece.
Carolin
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Reblogged this on When Life Walks On Bare Soles… and commented:
It’s the first day of December and a thousand thoughts cross my mind about the upcoming festive season. What can I give? How can I celebrate those I love? The story ‘1000 Bookmarks’ answers that question in a profound way. It’s not so much the gift of the bookmarks although I am amazed at the ingenuity of that gift, but really it is the gift of love that matters. And this story, for me, highlights to us that life is short, unpredictable and full of opportunities to love. I just had to share this story as we get into the giving mode. Let’s not forget that we don’t have forever to give to those we love. We only have now. Thank you to Carolin for a beautiful reminder.
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Reblogged this on malibehiribae and commented:
I am so sorry for your loss. An incredible way of sharing with your audience, I included, the beautiful life you had together.
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[…] Read the story of 1000 Bookmarks. […]
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This was very touching, thank you for sharing such a personal story. Your husband sounds like he was a wonderful man, and I’m very sorry for everything you’ve lost. The bookmarks are a beautiful way of showing your understanding and a very personal thing to do, which makes you sharing it with us all the more special.
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Thank you for reading. And for your kind words.
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[…] Read the story of 1000 Bookmarks. […]
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[…] Read the story of 1000 Bookmarks. […]
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My God.. It’s the very 1st blog of yours that I read and it’s so beautiful
Sorry for your loss.. Amazing pieces of work like this inspire us so much that it actually affects our behavior and the way we sometimes react to people.
May God always bless you and your family
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Thank you so much for reading, for your kind words and blessings. I’m humbled that my words touched and inspired you.
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Ur sucha great writer and an amazing person.. Ur work is worth appreciating
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